I Was Told It Would Get Easier(47)

We were on the bus to UPenn. My mom was on her phone, as usual, probably texting Valentina something important. After breakfast we’d gone up to the room and had the following stellar conversation:

Mom said, “I never thought I’d say this, but Dani isn’t as bad as I thought.”

“Really?” I replied.

She nodded.

“Well,” I said, “Alice is still a total bitch.”

But now, on the bus, Mom was ignoring me again. I thought about David Millar, the night before. Normally, and I don’t mean to sound weird, most people I meet with my mom are more interested in me. They’re being polite, usually, but they ask about school, or these days about college, or about social media or whatever. The guy last night looked right through me and was only interested in my mom. I looked at her now, staring at her phone, and tried to imagine what she was like in college. Apparently she was sexy and unpredictable, two words I would never have applied to her.

“Mom,” I said.

“Yes?” She turned away from her phone and smiled at me.

“Do you miss being . . . single?”

She frowned. “I am single . . .”

“I meant, without a kid.”

She shrugged. “No. I love being a mom, even if you don’t like having a mom.”

I turned back to the window. “I like having a mom. What kind of thing to say is that? I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.” She paused. “Are you still thinking about last night?”

I nodded but didn’t say anything. My throat had gone tight again, for no good reason I could see.

She put her hand on my leg and squeezed. “Don’t worry about it. I promise not to desert you and run off to the Peace Corps.”

I felt the tension ease a bit. “Are you sure? You’re not secretly harboring a desire to build latrines in the developing world?”

“Well, obviously that would be fun, but no, I’m quite happy with things as they are.”

I nodded. “Me, too.”

We rode the rest of the way to UPenn in silence. But it was nice.



* * *



? ? ?

There is no way I’m ever getting into Penn, not even sure why they include Ivies on the tour; it’s depressing. However, we went to the Philadelphia Museum of Art for lunch, and it might be my new favorite place. There was half an hour before lunch, so I wandered off to look at this one thing I’d seen on the website. They have an entire room from a nineteenth-century town house, and I wanted to see it. The room was beautifully furnished and ornate, filled with vases and sculptures, richly colored furniture and rugs. I read the card on the wall: Apparently the room had belonged to a woman who survived the sinking of the Titanic. She’d probably been full of beans, but her drawing room was kind of cold.

“The tapestry at the back tells the story of Cupid and Psyche, you know.”

I turned and there was Will, standing behind me with his arms folded. He continued, “The way I heard it, Venus was jealous of Psyche’s good looks so she sent her son, Cupid, the god of love, to make her fall in love with the biggest loser he could find. However, Cupid fell for her himself, hid her away so he could seduce her, and eventually, after much drama, was able to make her immortal and date her, you know, on the regular.”

I laughed. “That’s how you heard it?”

He nodded. “That’s the story.”

“I thought Cupid was a fat little cherub with an arrow.”

“Yeah, but before he was that, he was a totally fit guy who hooked up with Psyche.”

“Huh.”

We were silent for a moment, then Will said, “Is this what your bedroom’s like at home?”

I turned and grinned at him, nodding. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Mine, too, except mine’s more red and gold, you know.”

“More regal?”

“That’s what the decorator was going for.”

We turned and started walking slowly along the galleries. “Are you enjoying the trip?” I asked, suddenly aware of his arm swinging next to mine. He was deeply cute, and we did seem to keep ending up talking all the time. I guess Alice’s plan wasn’t working out the way she’d hoped. Sorry . . . not sorry.

“Yeah, it’s interesting.” Will smiled at me. “It’s like visiting a series of really big high schools, where the kids are taller and the subjects are harder.”

I laughed. “I really hope college is more different than that. My mom always makes it sound like an incredible adventure of new people and casual sex.”

Will looked puzzled. “She’s excited for you to have casual sex?”

“Well, not explicitly. But she says things like college is a great time to get to know lots and lots of different people, and then she’ll look at me meaningfully, which is, like, the most embarrassing thing ever.”

“Wow, that’s super awkward.”

“Yup. She means well, I guess . . .”

“My dad gave me a giant box of condoms and said, ‘Pants off, jacket on, end of story.’”

I raised my eyebrows. “Wow, also awkward.”

“Very.”

“At least it was a big box. Awkward, but optimistic.”

Will smiled at me, my god the dimple. “He bought them at Costco, he lives for bulk savings.”